Unfortunate Luck
by scabberssucks
Summary: Harry lays in bed one night and ponders Sirius, his responsibilites, and what he considers to be unfortunate luck. Songfic "Mad World" off the Donnie Darko soundtrack.


Hey… it's been a really long time since I've posted anything on here, but I was in a mood.  This the first songfic I've done, and it's "Mad World" off the _Donnie Darko _soundtrack.  I'm not sure who sings it…sorry.  It's a quick read, and please review!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I am not J.K. Rowling…therefore, I'm borrowing her characters. I have no idea who sings the song, but it's off the _Donnie Darko _soundtrack and it's not mine either.

Unfortunate Luck

_All around me are familiar faces_

_Worn out places, worn out faces_

_Bright and early for the daily races_

_Going nowhere, going nowhere_

It's dark now. It's dark, and I'm alone in my bed, the same bed I've slept in for the past five years. I lay flat on my back, yet I can't feel the mattress against me and I can't feel the thick blankets on top of me. I just lay as though floating, and stare at the top of the curtains surrounding me. I'm empty, completely drained of emotion by my own accord. I'm tired of feeling, tired of worrying, tired of the agony I've been living in for the past three months. Everything is familiar, yet it all seems strange to me…different, somehow, warped beyond recognition, but not changed at all. It contradicts in my head, twisting my mind so I begin to wonder if I'm mad. 

_The tears are filling up their glasses_

_No expression, no expression_

_Hide my head; I want to drown my sorrow_

_No tomorrow, no tomorrow_

The pain I've been feeling is eating me away from the inside. I feel like my skin is gone and my nerves are exposed, feeling every breeze, every breath, every word and vibration. And it hurts. It always makes it hurt. I'm screaming on the inside, wanting to make it go away. I want to run and never look back, outrun the misery and the sorrow…and the truth. I can't face the truth, can't admit it to myself. I keep thinking he's going to come back, that a huge, shaggy black dog is going to hurdle across the grounds and jump on me, knocking me backwards in a fit of laughter and slobber. I can almost feel the fur between my fingers. I smile slightly as I think of it, but stop immediately. The feel of a smile on my lips, which has become so foreign, brings me crashing back to reality and I realize it won't happen. He's never coming back…because of me. I bite my tongue hard to keep the tears away and taste the blood in my mouth. I press my body down hard onto the bed, wishing it would swallow me and hide me from the anguish, which is always seeking me, hunting me…and it always finds me.

_And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

_When people run in circles, it's a very, very_

_Mad world…Mad world_

I never asked for my life. Who would? I'd trade it for anyone else's…anyone. Everyone watches me, the Boy Who Lived, and they're awed, as though I'm some sort of hero or something. I'm not a hero…I'm just lucky. My entire life has been luck. I should have died when I was a year old, but I got lucky. I should have died first year, second year, fourth year, and this past spring, but every time, I got lucky. It wasn't me, it wasn't my own talents that got me through, but luck. I'm a pseudo-hero…it's being heroic that gets me into trouble in the first place. And he knows that…he knows…and that's why it's my fault. Sirius is dead, and it's because I was trying to play hero. I played right into Voldemort's hands, and Sirius paid the price. Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't just leave so no one else gets hurt because of me. I think about going to find him and getting it over with…him or me. If all else fails, at least I would get to go beyond that veil…where Sirius is.

_And I find it kinda funny, I find it kinda sad_

_The dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had_

_I find it hard to tell you, I find it hard to take_

_When people run in circles it's a very very_

_Mad world…mad world…_

_And watching your world…_

_Mad World._

I have too much luck. I want to take it and bottle it and give it to everyone around me, leaving me with none...I'm tired of it. I want to finish it, but instead I wait while the threat grows ever stronger. And as I lay here, in my bed with my mind writhing and screaming, I can only hope that maybe next time I won't be so damn lucky.

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R/R!!!


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